


Frame the Halves (and Call them Brothers)

by MollyPollyKinz



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Big brother Dream, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Dimension Travel, Dream is Tommy's older brother, Gapple addictions, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Imagine that, Manipulation, Nightmares, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, this was supposed to be a one-shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 22:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30129822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MollyPollyKinz/pseuds/MollyPollyKinz
Summary: “I am not you,” Dream snarled, “I don’t kill children.”“Not yet,” the other Dream said, tilting his head again and crossing his arms.“Not ever,” Dream pushed, “I couldneverhurt my little brother.”Or, the big bro Dream au where nineteen-year-old Dream gets transported from an alternate dimension to right before Tommy is killed in the prison. Angst ensues.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Comments: 87
Kudos: 640





	Frame the Halves (and Call them Brothers)

Dream wasn’t sure how this had happened.

All he knew was that at one moment he was showing twelve-year-old Drista how to hold a sword _properly,_ and the next he was standing in an obsidian room, staring at a curtain of lava.

 _“Wait!”_ A voice screamed, “Stop, stop!”

Dream spun around toward the sound of the voice, his heart racing. Because that voice sounded like _Tommy._

A masked man was beating a child into the ground, blood coating the obsidian walls.

And the next thing Dream knew, he was running, grabbing the man by the arms, and pulling him away.

“Get- _away_ -from-him,” Dream grunted struggling as the man nearly got out of his grip. Man, this guy was _strong._

The man froze, and suddenly the only sound in the room was the child’s— _please don’t let it be Tommy’s—_ ragged breathing that sounded almost like dry sobs.

Dream tried to pull the masked man farther away from the broken and bloodied boy, but the man was like a statue, impossible to move.

“Who—“ the boy gasped, _and he sounded so painfully like Tommy but also so, so wrong_ , "the—hell—are you?”

Dream gritted his teeth. “I’m Dream,” he growled, “And I want to know why the hell you’re beating up a child.”

And why he had appeared in a room all of a sudden, but that could be later’s problem.

The child laughed. “Nice try,” he said, “But there’s only one Dream, and he kind of wants to kill me right now.”

Dream froze.

What? What did he mean? Dream didn’t want to kill anyone, he didn’t even know _why_ he was _here_. And there was no way that the man he was currently holding back from literal murder was _him. Dream_ was Dream.

The masked man took advantage of Dream’s shock to break free from Dream’s hold, and he turned around, facing Dream properly.

Dream held back a shudder. The smiley-face mask on his face seemed like it was looking into Dream’s soul, even though it was just a stupid porcelain mask.

The person behind the mask let out a chilling laugh.

“Well this is an interesting development,” he said, pacing around Dream like he was some sort of museum exhibit, “How did you get here?”

Dream snarled. “You tell me.”

“Well, I didn’t summon you on purpose,” the masked man mused, tilting his head, “And there’s no way _Tommy_ could’ve done it—“

Dream’s blood went cold.

“Tommy?” He whispered, his eyes snapping back to the broken and bloodied boy collapsed in the corner of the obsidian room.

The boy glared, looking more pitiful than defiant with all of the blood running down his face and staining his shirt.

“Yeah? You got a problem with me?”

Dream shut his eyes and opened them again. Because there was no way, _no way_ this could be Tommy. There was _no way_ that this was his little brother. Tommy was _fourteen_ last Dream had seen him, which had only been a couple of hours ago. Tommy was younger than this; Tommy was at _home;_ he wasn’t in this small room with this masked _psycho._

 _“_ Where are you even from?” said-psycho continued, as if Dream wasn’t having a crisis there and now, “An alternate dimension?”

Dream felt as though an invisible barbed wire tugged his heart when Tommy, who could not possibly be _his_ Tommy, gave Dream a look of pure panic.

“What do you mean?” He demanded, his voice cracking so _heartbreakingly, “_ Dream, _what do you mean?”_

The masked man turned to Tommy, and the sheer act alone caused him to shrink further back into the obsidian. Dream wasn’t even sure if Tommy was aware that he was doing it.

“I mean, Toms,” he said sweetly, “That this man is, in fact, me.”

Dream hated the way Tommy looked at him like Dream was the angel of death, the way that he tried to shrink further back into into the corner of the already small room, the way that Dream was some kind of _villain_ in his eyes.

“ _No,”_ Tommy whispered, “No, no, no, no, no…”

Dream clenched his fists, glaring at the masked man who was apparently _also_ Dream.

“I am _not_ you,” Dream snarled, “ _I_ don’t kill children.”

“Not yet,” other Dream said, tilting his head again and crossing his arms.

“Not _ever,”_ Dream pushed, “I could _never_ hurt my little brother.”

Tommy let out a shuddering gasp that made Dream’s heart stutter.

“What?” Tommy demanded, his voice trembling, “What are you on about, moron? I’m not… I’m not your freaking _brother.”_

The other Dream—and Dream already _hated_ being associated by the monster in front of him—laughed.

“You learn something new every day, don’t you?” he asked.

Tommy let out another shuddering sob, and Dream instinctively stepped toward him.

“ _Stay away_ from me!” Tommy all but shrieked, shuffling back so violently that he hit his head against the wall.

Tommy let out a cry of pain, and Dream immediately took a couple of large steps backward. He wanted to help Tommy, but not if he was only going to make things worse.

Instead, Dream stalked toward the other Dream, grabbing him by the collar of his green sweater. “What have you _done_ to my brother?”

“Oh please,” other Dream scoffed, not looking at all concerned that Dream wanted to throw this man into the lava, “He deserved it. He needed—”

“Finish that sentence and I will not hesitate to _end you,”_ Dream growled, drawing his fist back for the punch, “What—"

They were interrupted by a new voice.

“Tommy!” someone shouted, “Tommy, are you okay?!”

“SAM!” Tommy screamed back, “Sam, get me out of here, he tried to KILL me! And now there’s two of them! YOU NEED TO GET ME OUT! GET ME OUT!”

“I’m lowering the curtain now!” the new voice, Sam apparently, called out, sounding appropriately distressed, “Dream, stand in the corner, or I will kill you myself!”

Other Dream moved to Tommy, and Dream shoved him to the wall.

“Oh, Sam!” Other dream called out in sing song, “Tommy’s awfully close to death. It would be a shame if something were to—”

“Got it!” Dream interrupted quickly, “Just get him _out!”_

Dream’s evil twin punched him in the gut. Dream let out a pained grunt, but he refused to let go of this monster. He refused to let him threaten Tommy.

Then the other Dream kneed him in the groin, and Dream let out a startled cry, his hold on the other Dream’s sweater loosening. The other Dream broke free of Dream’s hold and ran over to Tommy as the lava wall started going down.

Tommy let out a startled shout as Dream’s evil counterpart went to grab Tommy by the scruff of his shirt, and Dream’s mind went on overdrive. Charging at the other Dream, Dream tackled him to the ground. Tommy let out another cry of surprise.

“Stay the hell away from him,” Dream growled, his voice bordering on animalistic.

“Or what?” the other Dream asked, a mocking lilt to his voice, “You’ll kill me?”

“There’s lava right there,” Dream said, nodding his head to the sea of lava that was now revealed by the removal of the lava wall, “Wouldn’t be too hard.”

“You’d have to get me there first.”

The other Dream kicked his legs up, kicking Dream firmly in the ribs. Dream cried out at the fresh burst of pain as he was pushed off of the psychopath trying to kill his brother.

“Freeze.”

Sam’s voice was far deadlier than it was when he was calling out to Tommy. Strangely, enough, Dream found this a relief more than anything else as he turned to get a good look at his brother’s savior.

A man with green hair and a gasmask was already pointing a trident at both Dreams, holding Tommy protectively in his other arm. Overwhelming relief crushed Dream, and he relaxed, no longer worried.

Tommy was safe. That was all that mattered.

“Who are you?” Sam asked, looking at Dream and not the masked version of him.

Dream gave the other Dream a spiteful look. He refused to associate himself with this psychopath any longer.

“I’m Clay,” he spat, using the middle name that Drista and Tommy only used when they were teasing him, “And I am _not_ like him.”

Sam stared at Clay searchingly before standing up, moved his trident to firmly sit on Dream’s throat, and hoisting Tommy more securely on his person.

“There’s only one prisoner in this prison,” Sam said, “And it’s not you. Come on.”

Clay gaped in shock. He was literally the same person as _Dream,_ who had just tried to _kill_ his little brother, and Sam was just going to let him go?

And if there was one prisoner in this prison, why was Tommy even here in the first place?

“Seriously?” he asked.

Sam sighed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen?” Clay replied, not sure how that had to do with anything.

“Then you’re fine,” Sam said, “You didn’t go bad until your twenties, when you started wearing that stupid mask.”

“Sam,” Tommy moaned, “I want to leave, please, please, I need to leave.”

Sam carried Tommy onto a strange bridge contraption, and Clay followed close behind in spite of himself. It was better than being trapped in the same room as that Dream, so that was something.

It wasn’t until they were safely out of the prison that Clay spoke again.

“Where are you taking him?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“The hotel,” Sam said, “It’s the closest place I can think of, and we need to give him treatment as soon as possible.”

Clay could agree with that much; Tommy still looked very much on the brink of death with his mangled body curled up in Sam’s arms. Tommy himself seemed to be struggling to keep his eyes open.

“What is _he_ still doing here?” Tommy asked, his voice still bordering on panic, “Sam, Sam why is _he_ still here?”

Sam gave Clay a searching look. “You’re going to have to leave,” he said quietly, “Tommy’s too out of it to differentiate you from his abuser, and the last thing we need is to send him into a panic attack.”

Clay was loath to admit it, but Sam had a point. The _last thing_ Dream wanted was to send his little brother in to a panic attack as he was literally on death’s door.

Still… _abuser?_ What had Dream _done?_

“Okay,” Clay said quietly, “Anywhere I should go?”

Sam didn’t stop walking toward the giant red building nearby. “Find Puffy!” he called out to Clay.

Clay didn’t even have time to ask who the hell Puffy was before Sam disappeared from view.

Probably for the best. Tommy needed care as soon as possible.

Still, questions buzzed through Clay’s head a mile-per-minute. What was he doing here? Why was the Dream in this world such a _psychopath?_ Why didn’t Tommy know his own brother?

What had Dream _done_ to his little brother?

Sam said he needed to find Puffy. Clay had no freaking clue who Puffy was. Maybe if he asked around? But this world’s version of him was in a literal prison, and Clay would really prefer not to cause a mass panic. Maybe if he just looked around, there might be a sign saying: _Puffy Here._

Instead he found a very tall enderman hybrid looking at him with a strange sort of suspicion. Clay supposed it made sense, considering that his doppelganger was a monster, but still, it was strange.

Especially when the kid said in a very drawn out way, “Hello… are you new here?”

Clay stared, and the hybrid looked down at his feet.

“Um…” Clay swallowed, “Yes, I am very new here.”

The kid looked as though an electric shock filled his body, and he took a huge step back, staring at Clay with what could be defined as unadulterated fear.

“D- _Dream_?” the kid stuttered, “What are you doing here? Or are you just a hallucination?” The kid started clutching his head. “And where’s your mask?”

Clay had no idea what he was supposed to do in this situation. Was he supposed to comfort him? But how would that make things better if the kid was so clearly _afraid?_

Clay took an intentional step back.

“I’m not Dream,” Clay said carefully, “I’m Clay.”

Surprisingly enough, that helped the kid to calm down. At least, he stopped muttering under his breath, which was better than nothing.

“You _sound_ like Dream,” the kid accused.

Clay grimaced. “Yeah,” he admitted, “Unfortunately, I can’t change my voice. Is there anything else about me that reminds you of him?”

“Your shirt,” the kid said almost instantly, “It’s the same shade of green.”

Clay glanced down at his t-shirt and found that it was, in fact, the same shade of green as that smug jerk’s.

“I’ll get on that,” Clay promised, “Anything else?”

The kid rubbed the back of his neck. “Probably not,” he admitted, “You’re a lot different from him, come to think of it. You just sound a _lot_ like him.”

“Sorry about that.”

“That’s alright,” the kid said, “I’m Ranboo, by the way.”

“Ranboo,” Clay repeated, “Cool name.”

“Thanks.” Ranboo twisted his fingers in his hands. “You said you’re Clay, right?”

It was strange to be addressed that way, but Clay nodded. He would rather have to adjust to a new name than continue being associated with the monster that hurt his little brother.

“That’s me.”

“Awesome,” Ranboo said, already backing away, “I’ll go tell Tubbo.”

“Wait!” Clay called out before Ranboo could go. He hated how Ranboo flinched at the call. “Sorry, but do you know where ‘Puffy’ is? Sam told me to find her.”

“Oh,” Ranboo said exaggeratedly, “Um… I think she might be at her future therapy office? I don’t exactly remember where it is, um, it might have a sign though!”

Clay nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his pants. “Got it, thanks.”

“Um… no problem?” Ranboo waved. “Anyway, got to go, bye!”

Clay watched as Ranboo practically _sprinted_ away from him.

Apparently, Puffy was a therapist. This was _excellent_ news, because Clay was singlehandedly going to drag Tommy to that office himself if nobody else did.

Sam had a good head on his shoulders though; Clay was pretty sure he would do it for him. This was good, because Tommy was _terrified_ of Clay, and honestly, rightfully so. Clay had already witnessed Dream straight up trying to _kill_ his little brother, and he had a feeling there was more to it than that.

Thinking about Tommy made worry gnaw at his chest. He had looked so _broken_ before, and there had been blood _everywhere._

Clay knew he was supposed to find this Puffy and her office, and he _would,_ but… he really wanted to check on Tommy.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just… go near the entrance of the hotel. Just wait outside, see if he can’t ask Sam about his condition. That wouldn’t be so bad. He would just… sit and ask.

So with that, Clay turned around and walked straight back over to the giant red building that he had seen Sam take Tommy into.

As he walked toward the entrance of the hotel, however, a man with red and blue sunglasses and a really angry expression walked toward him.

Clay was _going_ to ignore him, but that was instantly made impossible when the man spoke directly to him.

“Who the hell are you?” the man demanded, his voice an angry snarl.

“I’m Clay,” Clay said, trying to keep his voice pleasant, “You are?”

“I’m Jack Manifold,” Jack said, jabbing his thumb at himself, “and this is _my_ hotel.” He gestured violently to the building behind him. “Not _Tommy’s,_ Tommy was in prison, Tommy was—”

Cold anger filled Clay’s chest.

“You want to try that again?” Clay asked.

Jack straightened, looking surprised. “What?”

Clay glared. “I _asked_ if you wanted to try that again.”

“What should I try again?” Jack demanded, “This is my hotel; I run it; Tommy used me as slave labor before; he can’t just come barging back here like he owns the place now that he’s some _victim—”_

“Because Prime forbid anyone is a victim,” Clay said coldly, “And I know he didn’t ‘barge in’; Sam was _carrying him._ Because Dream had tried to _beat him to death!”_

“And he would’ve deserved it!”

_What?_

“You want to say that again?” Clay asked, clenching his fists and stepping toward Jack threateningly.

Jack shrunk back slightly before straightening boldly.

“You heard me!” Jack’s voice was so full of bitterness that Clay was surprised he didn’t choke on it. “That _obnoxious, arrogant_ brat is the cause of all my suffering, of all the pain on this server, all because of his _selfishness—”_

Yeah, that was enough.

“Oh yes,” Clay said sarcastically, “A _child_ who has been nearly beaten to death is definitely to blame for all of your problems. How could I not see it before?”

“You’re new,” Jack said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Clay laughed, and Jack flinched. “I don’t need to,” he said, grabbing Jack by the scruff of his shirt, “Because let me tell you this right here and right now. That is my _little brother_ you are talking about deserving death, and I will _not_ stand for it.”

Jack gaped.

“Wilbur?” he asked, “What happened to you?”

Clay blinked. “Who the hell is Wilbur?” he demanded, “And I already told you, I’m _Clay.”_

Jack ignored Clay’s statement of the obvious.

“What do you mean, _who the hell is Wilbur?”_ Jack demanded right back at him, “You know? The one who founded the country that is now a large crater in the ground? Tommy’s older brother? Or, at least, that’s what they always _implied…”_

Clay stared at Jack in shock, his grip on Jack’s shirt loosening. He knew that Tommy had no idea that Dream was his brother, but he hadn’t realized that Tommy might’ve had a different older brother figure instead.

Still… if this world’s Dream was going to be such a psychopath, maybe that was for the best.

“Is he in there now?” Clay asked, “Because Tommy’s in a bad shape, and—”

Jack pulled himself away from Clay. “Wait a moment,” he interrupted nastily, “How stupid can you possibly be?”

“As stupid as someone who just got here,” Clay replied dryly, “And stupid is strong for someone who wants to kill a minor because you refuse to go to therapy.”

Jack opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “ _Excuse me_?”

“You heard me.” Clay smirked, taking satisfaction in Jack’s dumbfounded expression. “Get off your high-horse and see the real world for a change. If you want to find someone to kill so badly, fine! Kill Dream! Kill me if you want someone to blame so badly!”

Clay froze, surprised at the words that came tumbling out of his mouth. He didn’t take them back, not for a second. If it went down to Clay or Tommy, Clay would sacrifice his life for Tommy’s in an instant.

Jack opened his mouth to reply when someone who looked a lot like Sam, except he was wearing some sort of raccoon or tanuki mask.

 _“HELLO JACK MANIFOLD AND CLAY,”_ the person who definitely was not Sam greeted, “ _I HOPE YOU ARE ALL GETTING ALONG NICELY.”_

Jack spun around to meet Sam’s robot twin.

“We are not _getting along nicely!”_ he shouted, “I want my damn hotel back!”

“It’s not _your_ hotel!” Clay shouted right back at him. The sign definitely said _Big Innit Hotel._

“Tommy was put in prison; it’s not his anymore!”

Sam’s twin scowled. _“BIG INNIT HOTEL IS THE PROPERTY OF TOMMYINNIT. JACK MANIFOLD IS AN EMPLOYEE. IF YOU WISH TOMMYINNIT HARM, I WILL HAVE TO ASK YOU TO LEAVE THE PREMISES.”_

“It’s _my_ hotel!” Jack repeated, practically stomping his feet against the ground like a child having a temper tantrum, “You can’t make me leave!”

Clay rolled his eyes. “You sound like a broken disc.” Ignoring Jack’s sputtering, he turned to the Sam look-alike. “How’s Tommy doing?”

 _“TOMMYINNIT IS IN A STABLE CONDITION,”_ not-Sam replied, “ _HE IS CURRENTLY TAKING NO VISITORS.”_

Relief washed over Clay like hot water in a shower, and he allowed himself to release some of the tension in his shoulders. Tommy was in a stable condition. That was good. Tommy wasn’t going to die. It was going to be fine.

“That’s alright,” Clay said, “I just got worried.”

 _“UNDERSTANDABLE.”_ Not-Sam held his hand out to shake. “ _I AM SAM NOOK, ANDROID CREATED BY AWESAMDUDE TO HELP WITH THE CONSTRUCTION OF THE HOTEL AND THE PROTECTION OF TOMMYINNIT.”_

Clay nodded, shaking Nook’s hand and smiling. It was good to hear that Sam really did seem to have Tommy’s best interests at heart.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, “Though, I have to ask. Is Tommy often in need of protection?”

“Are you ignoring me?” Jack asked.

Clay ignored him. Nook followed suit.

_“UNFORTUNATELY, TOMMYINNIT IS OFTEN GETTING INTO DANGEROUS SITUATIONS. MANY PEOPLE HERE WISH TO KILL HIM.”_

Nausea rolled in Clay’s stomach. “What?”

“Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Jack asked, as if Clay had asked for _his_ opinion, “With everything he’s done, it only—”

Out of the corner of Clay’s eyes, he saw a woman with very puffy hair approaching them. “Jack, do yourself a favor and shut up.”

Jack gave the woman a nasty glare before storming away, muttering nonsensically. Clay wasn’t at all sorry to see him go.

“ _HELLO CAPTAIN PUFFY,”_ Nook said, “ _IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN.”_

Oh, so _this_ was Puffy. Who knew that her hair would actually be so… puffy.

“Good to see you too, Nook,” Puffy said. She turned to Clay. “And you must be Clay? Ranboo mentioned that you were looking for me.”

Clay swallowed. “Um, yes, that’s me,” he said, shaking her hand, “Sam told me to look for you.”

Puffy nodded, her expression darkening. “That’s why I’m here, actually. Sam messaged me about Tommy.”

Clay nodded. He wished he had his communicator on hand, but he had left it inside when Drista had finally managed to convince him to do some training. It hadn’t occurred to him that he would suddenly be launched into another world with no conceivable explanation.

Oh well, he was here now. Might as well _try_ to make things right.

“He-um… he’s pretty bad,” Clay said, his voice taut.

Puffy glanced over at the hotel. “Well, it was nice meeting you, but I think I have to go in and help Sam,” she said.

Clay nodded, watching her go inside. He longed to follow her, but Clay knew that his presence would only make things worse.

“I-I should probably go,” Clay muttered to Nook, “Can you ask Sam to message me when Tommy’s awake? And um… willing to talk to me, that is. Oh wait, I don’t have my communicator. Um… just ask him to find me if Tommy’”

Nook nodded. “ _I WILL INFORM AWESAMDUDE OF YOUR REQUEST.”_

“Thanks.”

Clay turned around and began walking with no destination in mind. He wasn’t sure what to do. Somehow, he had landed in some alternate universe where he was an evil tyrant. How was he supposed to handle that? Pretend that this was all some sick dream?

But it couldn’t be a dream, because Clay’s ribs still throbbed from where Dream had kicked them earlier. He had barely noticed it before, caught up over worrying over his brother and meeting all these new people but now, the pain was more apparent than ever.

Clay knew he should probably get it treated, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. He deserved this, didn’t he? He had hurt his little brother; he had hurt Tommy. He _promised_ he wouldn’t and he still…

 _“Dream?”_ a familiar voice called out, sounding shocked.

Clay snapped his head up to see Sapnap pulling out his bow and aiming an arrow straight toward his chest.

“Put your hands in the air,” Sapnap said, his voice quivering. With rage or something else, Clay had no idea. “Put your hands in the air, or I swear I won’t hesitate.”

Clay instantly put his hands up in the air, swallowing down the lump that threatened to come up in his throat.

“Sapnap,” Clay whispered, “I’m not—”

“No,” Sapnap said coldly, “I’m done listening to you; I don’t want to hear it.”

Clay shut his mouth. And for a moment, the only sound was the sound of the nether portal behind him, humming with magic.

Wait. A nether portal. Clay hadn’t even realized they were close to one; he hadn’t been paying attention to anywhere he was going. If he could just duck down and…

But no. Clay was trying to show Sapnap that he wasn’t like Dream. Clay couldn’t run.

Sapnap stepped closer, his bow still raised toward Clay. “What are you doing out of the prison?” he demanded, “Did you escape?”

Clay shook his head.

Sapnap rolled his eyes.

“Well, there it is with the lying,” he growled, “I know you escaped; there’s no way Sam just let you out.”

Clay decided that nodding would make Sam look like a worse warden than he actually was, so he didn’t do anything.

“And what are you doing without your mask anyway?”

Clay sighed and mouthed the words _“Can I speak?”_

Sapnap’s mouth thinned, but he gave Clay a short nod. “Fine, but don’t move.”

Clay took a deep breath.

“I’m not Dream,” he began.

“Seriously, Dream?” Sapnap asked, “I know your face; I know what you look like. You’re definitely him.”

“Then you should also know that I look about three years younger than him,” Clay snapped in spite of himself. He sighed. “Sorry, I just… I’m _not_ Dream.”

Sapnap didn’t lower his bow, and Clay didn’t expect him to. However, Sapnap’s expression _did_ change from one of anger to one of confusion, so Clay counted that as a win.

“Who are you then?” Sapnap asked.

“I’m Clay,” Clay decided to begin with. Sam had mentioned something about age too, so he might as well continue with that. “I’m nineteen, and I think I’m from an alternate universe.”

Sapnap let out a bitter laugh. “That’s a stretch, even for you, Dream.”  
  
“I’m _not_ him!” Clay snapped.

Sapnap tensed, his face hardening again.

“Sorry,” Clay whispered, “Sorry, but I’m _not_ him. I _can’t…_ he… he hurt Tommy.”

Oh, a tear was slipping down Clay’s cheek now. Normally, he’d be embarrassed, but currently, Clay was just relieved it was a single tear and not full-out sobbing. Because Tommy _had nearly died, and he had done it, he had hurt Tommy, and…_

“He’s my little brother,” Clay elaborated, hoping that Sapnap would understand, “Tommy’s my little brother; I-I would _die_ for him. And he was _…_ Sapnap, what did I _do?”_

An unreadable expression crossed across Sapnap’s face, but Clay thought for sure he could detect some rage in there. He had said something wrong then. Oh well.

Would it really matter if Sapnap shot Clay through the heart? Nobody would miss him. Heck, he was just an extra. There was already a Dream in this world; they didn’t need another. And then Sapnap would stop Clay from declining into the _monster_ that had tried to hurt Tommy.

Clay closed his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said, “I won’t stop you.”

It occurred to him that this wasn’t even Clay’s last life, that Clay would come back, good as new.

Oh well, he’d just find someone else to kill him the next two times.

Clay waited for the sound of the bow string, waited for the feeling of an arrow piercing his heart, waited for everything to dissolve into nothingness.

Dead silence.

Clay didn’t open his eyes until a hand was rested on his shoulder. Sapnap was staring at him with a tired expression that didn’t seem to match the eighteen-year-old friend Clay knew.

“Ok,” Sapnap said, “I believe you.”

“What? _”_ Clay whispered, “But-but you don’t understand—”

“I understand that you aren’t our Dream,” Sapnap said, letting go of Clay and putting his bow away, “Come on, let’s go see George.”

Clay didn’t move, unable to bring himself to say anything as Sapnap started walking away. Sapnap stopped walking and turned back around, raising his eyebrows at Clay.

“Are you going to stand there, or are you going to follow me?”

Clay smiled bitterly, forcing himself to speak.

“I’m tired of seeing people I care about scream in my face for something I’ve done to them,” he said quietly.

Tommy almost died, pleading for mercy. Sapnap had nearly killed Clay, demanding answers. What would George do? Refuse to speak to him at all?

“You haven’t done anything,” Sapnap said, rolling his eyes, “Unless you’re a _damn good_ manipulator, which I suppose you are, but I feel like Sam would’ve messaged us if you had escaped.”

“I could’ve killed him,” Clay suggested, wondering why he was basically _asking_ to be killed.

Sapnap laughed. “You could’ve,” he agreed, “But you wouldn’t have told me that just now.”

Clay still didn’t move, glancing back at the nether portal behind him.

“George won’t be mad at you.” And Sapnap’s voice was so sincere, like he could be _sure_ that whatever Clay—no, Dream had done to George could be so easily forgiven. “Come on.”

Clay followed Sapnap in spite of himself. It wasn’t like there was anywhere else he could go. His little brother cowered at the sight of him, and everyone else who recognized his face or his voice despised him.

Maybe Clay should’ve paid attention to the terrain as he followed Sapnap to George’s house, but Clay honestly couldn’t bring himself to care. What was the worst that could happen? He got lost and died?

Maybe Clay shouldn’t be taking his life this lightly. Maybe Clay was too tired to even give a crap anymore.

They came to a stop in front of a small house. Sapnap rapped his fist against the door.

“George?” he called, “Are you in there?”

The door opened, revealing George. He looked… a lot _older_ than Clay remembered. That made sense, of course. If this was two years later, George would be twenty-four instead of twenty-two, making their age difference even larger than before.

Clay vaguely realized that Sapnap was older than him now. Huh.

“Hey, Sapnap,” George said casually, “How are you…” George’s eyes landed on Clay, and Clay braced himself.

“It’s not what you think,” Sapnap was quick to explain, “He’s not Dream, or our Dream at least. He’s from an alternate dimension; he’s only nineteen—”

George raised his hand in a halting motion, silencing Sapnap. Clay forced himself to stay calm as George looked Clay straight in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Clay said, swallowing, “for whatever I’ve done to you. I don’t know what that is, but—”

Clay let out a gasp of pain as George hugged him suddenly, jostling his bruised ribs. Still, Clay sunk into the embrace, because he was _so tired,_ and it was _so nice_ to be greeted with something that wasn’t hatred or fear or the like.

Eventually, George pulled out of the embrace, smiling a little embarrassedly. “Sorry man,” he said, “It’s just… it’s been a while since you’ve let me do that.”

“Sorry,” Clay said tiredly.

George shrugged. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, “It’s not like it was actually _you_ anyway. Anyway, you want to step inside?”

Clay and Sapnap followed George into his house, and George gestured to the couch.

“Go ahead and make yourself comfortable,” George said, “Do you want anything, Dr-Clay?”

“No thank you.”

Clay sat down on the couch, trying not to jostle his ribs any more than he already had. Sapnap peered at him suspiciously as he sat down on the couch across form Clay.

“What are you hiding?”

Clay raised his eyebrows. “Me?” he asked, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sapnap let out a low whistle. “You are _definitely_ not our Dream.” He leaned forward. “What happened? Are you injured?”

Clay sighed, slumping further into the cushions. He didn’t want to lie if that was another thing his counterpart on this world was associated with.

“Just my ribs,” Clay admitted, “It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

Sapnap sighed, “George—”

“Already on it!” George called from the kitchen, “I’m sure I have a potion around here somewhere.”

Clay straightened. “No, I don’t need you to waste potions on me. I’m fine!”

“Uh-huh,” Sapnap said dryly, “You made a pained gasping noise when George hugged you.”

“So?” Clay demanded, “Doesn’t mean I need you wasting potions. It can heal fine without—”

He was interrupted by George trusting a potion into Clay’s hands.

“You need to drink it,” George commanded, “It’s not like it’s my only one. The benefit to staying out of trouble is I don’t burn through these like other people.”

George gave Sapnap a _look._ Sapnap raised his arms in surrender. “To be fair, at least I don’t have a gapple addiction.”

Clay raised his eyebrows, still staring at the bottle of potion in his hand.

“Who has a gapple addiction?”

Sapnap grimaced.

“Tommy, I think?” George said, not sounding completely sure of himself.

“He got clean, last I heard,” Sapnap said quickly, seeing Clay’s horrified expression, “But I’m pretty sure that you have to keep gapples out of sight, just to make things easier for him.

Clay put his head in the hand that wasn’t holding a potion bottle.

“Gapples,” he whispered, “ _Prime.”_

“Speaking of Tommy, how is he?” George asked, frowning, “Is he… you know?”

“If by ‘you know’ you mean _nearly beaten to death by his older brother,_ then yes, he is,” Clay said sarcastically.

There was a shocked silence.

“Wait, what?” Sapnap said, “How—I thought he was in _prison?”_

“Wait, who are we talking about right now?” George asked, sounding confused.

Clay let out a hysterical laugh. “Who else?’

Sapnap cleared his throat. “Um… Dream may or may not be Tommy’s older brother.”

George’s eyes widened, and Clay pressed his palm against the tears that threatened to pour from his eyes. Tommy was fine. Sam had him. Nothing was going to happen.

_Tommy’s frantic screaming still rang over and over in his head. Whenever he closed his eyes, Clay could see the blood coating his brother’s body._

“I did something awful,” Clay whispered, “I know I did something awful. Tommy was _so scared,_ and I… I don’t know what to do.”

“Well…” George said slowly, sitting down next to Clay. “You can start by drinking that potion.”

Clay laughed bitterly. “I don’t—”

“Please,” Sapnap interrupted, “Just drink the stupid potion.”

Clay sighed, uncorked the bottle, and downed the magical liquid. Almost instantly, Clay felt relief return to his side.

He almost regretted to feel it go. Because he deserved the pain, right? He deserved it for everything he’d done.

But… that wasn’t Clay. It _wasn’t_.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I hope this fic stays two chapters, but who even knows tbh. For now, we're hoping it stays two chapters. 
> 
> Wilbur interlude in breathing's just a rhythm will hopefully happen tomorrow. Hopefully. I'm having LOADS of fun with it, but I think I'm only like 974 words in, so who knows tbh. 
> 
> Um... notes about the actual fic. I want to get to more comfort in the next chapter but at this rate this fic will be more than two chapters. 
> 
> Sad.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, please be nice in the comments, and thank you for reading! <3


End file.
